


Here at the End

by Garetjax99



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-15 08:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12317292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garetjax99/pseuds/Garetjax99
Summary: As the end of the Great War nears, Jon must accept his Destiny but Daenerys will not.





	1. Jon 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting for this fandom. Reviews give me warm fuzzies.

Here at the End…

 by GaretJax99

 

                                                                          **Jon I**

The winds here sounded like soft horns when it blew. The weirwood tress giving the sound an eerie tune.

_He still couldn’t remember how he got this far south. Or what it was that had drawn him here, not when his people, his family and his Dany were up North, fighting for their lives against the Night King._

“You understand what you are sacrificing…?” she asked quietly.

“I do.” He stared at the Child of the Forest intently – his grey eyes boring into the soft onyx like eyes of the strange willowy creature.

Her voice was like warm rain falling on soft leaves, “How can you?”

 “You are not like the First Men that came before you.” She smirked. “They believe you to be the Prince that was Promised…” she trailed off, w thin eyebrow raised in curiosity.

He smiled, the irony of the statement not lost on him.

“I am not one for titles….”

The Child made a sound that might have been a snort, “You are Dragon and Wolf. Ice and Fire.”

“Aye, I am. More titles…” That revelation still a raw wound deep in his soul -   _Promise me Ned_. “It is our actions that define us, not the titles that are bestowed on us by those that don’t know us. Not the family titles we are born into. Or the blood runs through our veins.”

She smiled at him sadly, her eyes staring into him at his very soul – _wanting to believe_.

“What of your Queen? Is she not carrying your child within her womb? Was that child not made from love?”

_Love. Pain. Joy. Not enough time for any of it – not for him, never for him. He had accepted his destiny or fate or whatever the **fuck** it was that had pulled him back from death and thrown him right into the middle of this shit storm. But…It had brought him to her. His Queen. And the child they had made – and he knew…._

“Yes and _She_ is. _She_ will protect him. _She_ will guide him. _She_ will love him in my place. Love him enough for the both of us.”

The Child looked upon him then, her eyes bristled with tears. _He is the one…_

“No, you are indeed not like those that came before you. They didn’t know what they were asking, what they would have to give up….to become the **King of Winter**. You will no longer be a Prince…”

She smiled sadly, “When Winter ends, you will never be able to leave the North. Forever will you remain there, guarding against the Long Night, because it always comes. Protector of the Realms of Men. Forever. You will never know death, or peace or love…ever again”

She turned away and slowly walked towards the small dais behind her. Hey eyes staring down at the Dragon Glass dagger that laid upon it. She wanted so much to not lay this burden upon him. He did not deserve it, he should not suffer the tragedy or the loss because those that came before him could not uphold their word, could not keep their promises.

He closed his eyes as Jon Snow one last time, her smiling face came forth in his mind. She was beauty, and strength and honor and love and fire all in one. _His_. He would hold on to her, to their child – no matter what. This is why he was brought back – he had no choice but to embrace it, to make certain that Dany had a world to rule, a wheel to break and a child to raise.

He felt the tip of the dagger cold against his chest. Its edge a feathery touch against the scar over his heart.

“Farewell Jon Snow…remember your promise.”

So cold – he could feel it, here at the end of who he was. The bitter cold spread out from his chest, biting at this flesh, his bones – filling him with ice and blood and strength.  He could feel it spread through his soul – taking over and taking hold of who he is. Who he was.

Memories came unbidden to him;

_Dancing around Robb’s clumsy swing with a practice sword in the courtyard, both of them laughing._

_Arya jumping up to engulf him in a bone crushing hug with her eyes full of years._

_A tender kiss placed on Brans forehead as the young boy lays near death in bed._

_A gentle hand protectively against Rickons’ back as he rides the small pony around the courtyard._

_A brotherly kiss upon Sansa’s head, thankful that she was safe and by his side._

_Sitting around a warm fire with Tormund and Ygritte, laughing with no care in the world._

_Embracing Sam, saying farewell to his best friend, not knowing if he will ever see him again._

_Benjen throwing him on the horse surrounded by the dead, a final goodbye._

_Looking into Dany’s beautiful eyes, her hand tenderly on his cheek, fingers gently scratching at his beard._

_Dany above him as she rides him slowly and with so much tenderness, her hair falling around him as her forehead is pressed against his, whispering to him of her love and devotion._

_His hand proectivcely on her stomach listening and feeling for the life they created, her eyes full of tears, her smile, so secret and radiant and only for him._

Blue eyes – cold breath….

Dany.

Dany.

Dany.

I’m so sorry…

 

To be Continued...


	2. Daenerys I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. I appreciate the comments so far and I hope this chapter here also gets your mind flowing with possibilities. Enjoy!

** Daenerys I **

****

The snow storm – and that was putting it lightly, raged outside like it was heralding in the ‘End of the World’ – which Dany thought to be quite ironic considering that is exactly what it was doing.

_The Long Night is upon us…._

They were camped outside Moat Cailin. Had been for the last 5 days, with all of their armies in tow. Ever since Winterfell was abandoned and nearly destroyed by the Night King and Viserion, they had started moving south. Marching closer and closer to where Bran thought they needed to be, wherever that was.

Jon (He would always be _Jon_ , she cared not for what his birth parents – her _brother_ had named him) had been gone for 3 days, him and Rhaegal both. Flown down to the south to investigate one of Bran’s visions. Someplace called the _God’s Eye._ A very presumptuous name, she thought to herself.

The conversation they had before he had left still rang in her mind, and she wished it had gone so very differently, that she hadn’t been so harsh with him, instead she wished that she had just kissed him like she had wanted to. Hold him close and fiercely and make him promise to return quickly because she needed him near, their unborn child needed its father with them. Needed his protection, his strength, his love.

Daenerys sat in a very uncomfortable chair, covered in one of her husband’s large fur cloaks; in front of a makeshift hearth that crackled and popped and did very little to keep the cold out of her tent.

She sat in silence, Tyrion and Missandei sat in equally uncomfortable chairs near her, each with a cup of wine in their hands.

Her hand rested on her belly, the small bump only now becoming obvious. She knew it would only be for or five more cycles of the moon before their child came into the world. Every day the child kicked and she cherished every thump against her walls. Knowing that it meant their little dragon-wolf would be fierce. She prayed (and Daenerys was _not_ one for praying, that is until she had learned that she was with child – Jon’s child!) that the child would have his black hair and her amethyst eyes.

Tyrion cleared his throat, “It’s a shame really. That we don’t get to spend enough time together like this.”

He quickly downed the rest of his goblet.

“Drinking?” Missandei asks with a smirk. “We could perhaps tell jokes as well, I have heard some disgusting jokes from Tormund Giantsbane. Although, he does seem to have a more than an unhealthy supply of bear jokes. I am sure her Grace would like that. To take her mind of his Grace.”

Dany raised her eyebrows in surprise, “Have you corrupted our dear Missandei my Lord Hand?”

Tyrion grinned, “Alas, that is another thing I do well My Queen – I drink, I know things and I corrupt sweet and innocent ladies.”

Missandei giggled, “I never claimed to be a lady Lord Tyrion. Nor sweet and innocent.”

If it were even possible Dany’s eyebrows shot even higher, “I am entirely certain I do not approve.”

Although her tone was in jest her words seemed to have an adverse effect on her Hand.

“Your Grace,” Tyrion started.

Dany rolled her eyes, “My dear Tyrion, I know that you did not approve of how Jon and I handled our marriage, but I assure – “

“Eloped.” He stated harsher then he probably intended. His eyes grew wide as he realized how disrespectful that must have sounded. “You eloped Your Grace.” Tyrion interrupted. “Without telling anyone. Without telling me.”

“I am aware of what we did Tyrion. As I said before we felt it was necessary at the time.” Tyrion’s incessant need to bring this up (4 times since they had married 2 moons ago) had literally taken hold of her last nerve and threatened to snap it, much like his neck if Drogon had gotten hold of him for just a second…

Dany shook her head, those thoughts would get her nowhere.

Dany looked towards the hearth, where Ghost laid. His huge body sprawled out in front of the fire, his crimson eyes watching them silently, and not for the first time she pondered on the bond between Ghost and his master. She had heard the tales from the Wildling camp, the seemingly unbelievable stories from the likes of Tormund and Davos.

How Ghost and Jon were like one mind in battle. She had witnessed him in battle. That terrible day not so long ago, when she had lost her sweet child and had very nearly lost her husband. That horrible day, she had watched Jon dance among the dead as he cut them all down, giving the rest of his men the time they needed to get on Drogon.

His movements where focused and intricate. The way he moved between them, so quick and precise were his cuts and parry’s that most of them had fallen before they even had a chance to strike him. For someone that had seen Khal Drogo, and his Dothraki fight and wage war – or seen Daario and Jorah dispatch her justice in battle…never had she seen anyone move and fight like Jon Snow. The fact that he did all that garbed in layers of fur was not at all lost on her.

Dany was pulled from her reverie.

“Your Grace, would you like more wine?” Missandei asked, her hand hovering over the decanter of Arbor Gold.

Dany started to respond but her head suddenly turned to Ghost who had started to kick and whine in his sleep. Missandei and Tyrion also turned to look at the direwolf. The beasts whining grew louder and Dany felt her heart **thud** against her ribs.

_Dany._

His voice invaded her mind. _Jon_.

Ghost was up now. His eyes on her. Looking right through her. _Jon_.

It started then - a small barely noticeable tingle at the base of her spine.

_Dany._

Tyrion jumped up from his chair and stood between the giant wolf and his Queen.

Ghost growled at him then. His teeth bared and huge. It would make very short work of him, Tyrion thought.

“Move Tyrion….it’s Jon….” Her voice filled with dread.

The tingle suddenly crawled upwards and fanned out to her fingers and toes. The tingle suddenly shifted, becoming a pain akin to a star bursting within her, setting her soul ablaze. Fire cannot kill a dragon.

_Dany._

“No…Jon please no...” She whimpered pitifully.

Missandei and Tyrion shared a look – confusion obvious.

Her breath suddenly hitched, her chest tensed and the burning was gone - turned to a coldness that defied description and completely engulfed her. Leaving no warmth behind.

_I’m so sorry…_

Her stomach convulsed and knotted, and without knowing how she was on her knees and tears filled her eyes.

_Can’t breathe_! The room was spinning and panic taken over. She was trying to breathe, taking large gasps, her brain freezing, unable to think, and damn it her chest hurt _so much!_

Missandei tried to grab hold of her, but her hands smoked and hissed!

Missandei jumped back in shock, “She is freezing!”

Ghost was in front of her now, his eyes so big and red and so sad. The direwolf nuzzled her cheek and her neck, whining.

“Oh no….” Tyrion whispered. He looked to Missandei, the young woman’s eyes full of tears. They knew now…what had happened.

Dany threw her arms around the neck of her husband’s wolf and shattered.

 

 

 

 


End file.
